


Sparkle!

by JuweWright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, HP: EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: Disclaimer as usual: No money-making involved. I don't own anything, JKR does. I just play in her sandbox and hope you like it!





	Sparkle!

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DFFandCabalChristmasFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DFFandCabalChristmasFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> “The darkest midnight in December, no snow nor hail nor midnight storm, shall hinder us for to remember, the babe that on this night was born.”  
> Dialogue line: “Hermione, is it supposed to sparkle?”
> 
> This was beta-read by beachmomma77 (thank you so much!!!)

If anyone had told Draco Malfoy he’d one day end up spending Christmas Eve with Hermione Granger, he’d probably have told that person that they belonged in St Mungo’s. Chances were, he’d have made sure they actually landed there, too. After all, Draco Malfoy knew how to cast a spell and he also knew how to punch someone’s nose. After all, Draco Malfoy had learned from his father that being friends with Mudbloods was out of the question, if you were a pure blood wizard born into one of the old noble families. After all, Draco Malfoy had one day been very sure what his future would be like. That had been before the war though and adult Draco was pretty convinced that if he ever met his ten years younger self, he’d still remember how to put his nose-punching skills to good use.

The fire crackled merrily in the open fireplace in the spacious South London apartment. Huge colourful stockings were hanging in front of it, just out of reach of the flames. There were four stockings in total, because Harry and Luna would be visiting on Boxing Day. Draco put the tree down for a second and whisked his wand through the air to shut the balcony door behind him, before the cold wind took away the comfort of the living room. He then went on to manoeuvre the tree into the old metal stand that was already sitting on the floor. Hermione had warned him about trying to hex the tree into the stand. Draco would not have listened to any cautionary tale that was based on Ronald Weasley using his wand, but Hermione had assured him that her own attempts to magic the tree into the stand had also led to more harm than happiness. So he assumed it was best to listen to her, lest he’d not be allowed to celebrate Christmas with her ever again. Humming his favourite Christmas Carol, he set to work.

“The darkest midnight in December, no snow nor hail nor midnight storm, shall hinder us for to remember, the babe that on this night was born…”

It was a little tedious to get the tree to fit just right but in the end he had successfully set it up. Just when he had fixated it with the screws and crawled back on his hands and knees, wondering whether he really had needles in all the places that he felt them, Hermione came into the room, carrying a huge pile of boxes. Hermione was used to carrying huge stacks of books, she strode out quite firmly, measured the room with a few steps and set the pile down on the living room table. Draco looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor.

“What in Merlin’s old smelly socks’ name is all of that?” he enquired.

Hermione smiled. She smiled a lot these days. Draco had never expected her to be the christmassy type, but it turned out she was the cheesiest person of all times when it came to the holiday. She had hung up stars all over the apartment as soon as the end of November and she even had half a dozen or so Christmas CDs that lived in the back of the cupboard during the rest of the year but celebrated a massive comeback in December. She put one of them on and Haendel’s “Messiah” started playing from the old stereo. Draco mostly preferred the classical music (Haendel and Bach), to the more poppy CDs. Although there was one very weird Finnish one which had a lot of bass and guitar and drums and screaming singers which was actually not too bad.

Hermione opened the uppermost box and pulled out two gleaming red baubles.

“Decorations,” she declared beaming and pulled her wand out to have the baubles dance through the air and hang themselves onto the topmost branches of the Christmas tree.

Draco stood up. His hand absently brushed her arm as he opened the other boxes to see what was inside. More baubles, candles, some wooden stars, one massively ugly angel.

“Don’t tell me you are one of these ‘angel on top’ types!” he sighed.

Hermione laughed and brushed her lips against his cheek for a second.

“Nope, that’s my granny’s old angel. Can’t bring myself to throw it away so it stays in the box and is allowed to sit on the table for a bit each year. I have a star that goes on top. It’s in one of the other boxes.”

Draco decided that putting the candles up probably bore the least potential for conflict and let Hermione handle the baubles and shiny things.

When they had finished decorating the tree – the poor plant was groaning under the weight of what looked like half of the stock of the Christmas shop in Tooley Street – Hermione got out an old wooden nativity set. Draco watched her arrange the figurines with care. When she came to the donkey, another smile crossed her face.

“I have no clue why, but the donkey used to be my favourite thing when I was a kid. I always took it out of the crib and played with it in my room. My dad always called it ‘the case of the missing donkey’.”

She stood up and gave the tree and the nativity set the once-over followed by a satisfied nod.

“Do you mind making the soup?” she asked. “I’d like a shower before dinner and I told mum I would call her. The recipe’s sitting on the kitchen counter. It’s pretty straight forward.”

Draco nodded. He’d never been much of a cook, but almost one year of dating Hermione Granger was supposed to teach you more than one lesson. He gave her another peck on the cheek and went into the kitchen to set to work.

Hermione was half way to the bath room, when something banged against the hallway window. On close examination the something turned out to be an old battered owl. Even more battered now, that it had gone full-contact with the double-glazing. Hermione sighed as she placed Errol on the carpet and extracted the envelope from his feet. One day that bird would simply drop dead out of the sky. Merlin forbid, but if that should happen, she hoped it would land in Astoria Greengrass’ swimming pool. Or even better that woman’s Jacuzzi – while she was bathing in it. She unfolded the letter, and smiled.

 

_Dearest Ex-Sister-in-law_

_As there’s no way Ginny’s going to join me to just randomly crash your date-night on Boxing Day (having Ginny and Harry in one room is a very, very bad idea at the moment, and you know my sister: though she be but little, she is fierce and her bat bogey curse is not to be trifled with) I thought I’d just write to you to tell you MERRY CHRISTMAS! Also, what are you doing on Hogmanay? Ron is not going to be at home, so you and Malfoy are actually welcome to join the yearly Weasley feast and watch me and Charlie light up the biggest fireworks in the Northern Hemisphere. Just one word: Dragon-Fire! Hopefully see you soon (presents will be presented when you present yourself at the Burrow, because Errol really can’t be trusted to carry a knitted sweater over that distance any more),_

_Yours fire-workingly,_

_George_

_PS: I am supposed to say hello and Merry Christmas from (in that order) Ginny (with a hug and the usual request to please kick Harry where it hurts), Charlie (who thanks you for the special fire-protection paste, that sentiment is seconded by me), Bill (who thanks you and Draco for the improved Wolfsbane potion), Fleur (yes, she is here, yes, she is still annoying), mum (also hugs and the question whether you eat enough – she just managed to shout that up between singing two Celestina Warbeck songs), dad (plus the question whether you could bring him another power strip when you come visit – no I don’t know what he wants it for and I don’t want to know), Percy (he just looked up from his huge pile of paperwork to tell me that, so I guess you should feel honoured) and Ron (I think he just broke a tooth over all the grinding he’s doing)._

 

She laughed and decided to give Errol some rest before sending him back to let George know that Hogmanay at the Burrow sounded like a great idea.

After showering quickly, she called her mum for a record-breaking five minutes which sufficed to provide her with the necessary “yes, we will see you tomorrow” and “no Draco doesn’t have weird allergies of any sort and is neither vegan nor vegetarian nor pescetarian. He s simply your average, everyday omnivore”. An omnivore who took sugar in his black coffee, which was the one disgusting trait she’d never get used to. She hung up and was in the process of putting on her favourite pair of jeans and a comfy sweater when she heard a rather exasperated voice shout her name from the kitchen. It sounded like a middle-sized catastrophe had occurred and she sprinted to aid.

The scenery wasn’t half as horrible as she had imagined it. Actually, there were no soup stains on the ceiling, nothing was on fire and Crookshanks the old tomcat was also still sitting on his favourite chair, lazily dangling a paw and purring lowly while watching the proceedings. Draco was stirring the soup and looked unhappy though. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, revealing the faint outlines of the Dark Mark that still remained after all these years. His blond hair was mussed as if he had run his fingers through it quite a bit and he looked positively horrified as he stared at the contents of the pot.

“Hermione, is it supposed to sparkle?” he asked feebly.

She stared at the soup – which was indeed very sparkly and also very pink - then at the spoon he had been using to stir it and broke into a bout of laughter.

“Oh Merlin, I am so sorry, Draco” she managed to pant after about two minutes. “That’s the spoon that George gave me to test a couple weeks ago. I completely forgot about it. I always use the battered wooden one over there.”

Draco pulled the shiny new wooden spoon out of the soup and stared at it.

“You mean?”

“Weasleys’ Wizard Weezes has a new kitchen-utensil-series. I volunteered to be their guinea-pig.”

“It made the soup sparkle.”

“It also made it pink. I don’t really know whether I find pink or sparkly more off-putting.”

Their eyes met and it was pretty clear that they both had a flashback to their fifth year at Hogwarts and Dolores Umbridge.

“Pink!” they decided simultaneously.

Hermione sighed, lifted a spoonful of pink liquid to her nose and sniffed.

“Smells fine though.”

Draco’s lips curled in disgust.

“I am pretty sure I can’t eat that.”

“I don’t think the colour has any health-risks” Hermione contemplated. “They would never get that past the ministry. But the colour is really… hmmm… perhaps…”

She opened the cupboard and placed a single candle on the table, lit it with a flick of her wand and then pointed it at the lamp.

“Nox.”

Their eyes needed a few minutes to adjust to the dimness. Another look at the soup made Draco sigh with relief. The liquid could have been any colour now.

“Best idea ever, Granger.”

“I half-expected it to be fluorescent,” Hermione murmured as she ladled some soup onto her plate. “I will suggest that to George as an improvement. By the way we are invited to The Burrow for Hogmanay.”

Draco followed her example and sat down at the kitchen table. Crookshanks got up from his chair to position himself on Draco’s lap as he usually did during dinner.

“Ron -”

“- is not going to be there. You are safe from any moronic attacks he might throw at you. Or rather  _he_ is safe from whatever consequences his moronic attacks might have on his own health and safety. Not that I care much about Ron’s health.”

Draco chuckled.

“In that case, I’m in for some fun with the red-heads. That soup’s not too bad by the way. If you forget about the sparkly pink bit. And don’t be too harsh on Ron. If he wasn’t a total pain in the butt you wouldn’t have run into me last year.”

She had literally done that. Stormed out of the flat, down the road and right into a lean man in a black coat who was carrying a huge brown leather suitcase which contained the leftovers of his life with Astoria and a shiny broom that had some of the passers-by look at him suspiciously. She hadn’t even looked up at him before he’d tutted and noted with his typical sneer: “What’s the rush, Granger?”

Hermione laughed and poured some wine into the two glasses on the table, before lifting hers.

“To Ron and Astoria” she toasted. “May they always be remembered as the tools fate used to throw us into each other’s paths!”

The glasses clinked and their eyes met. As if pulled by an invisible force they leaned towards each other until their lips met. Draco was the first to pull out of the kiss. A glint had appeared in his eyes that Hermione couldn’t quite place.

“So, I wanted to be really original about this, Granger, put it in the soup, have you find it there, be surprised by it, possibly swallow it and choke on it and almost die, so I could be your knight in shining armour and rescue you… But I somehow lost track after the soup turned all pink and sparkly, so I am going to do this the old-fashioned way now.”

He lifted Crookshanks off his lap and sat the protesting cat back on its own chair, before kneeling down on the kitchen floor, holding up a tiny brown box to his girlfriend.

“Hermione Jean Granger, will you marry an ex-Death Eater who still can’t cook without turning the soup pink but who will discuss potion recipes with you in the middle of the night and endure the fact that every empty space in your apartment is covered with excellent reading-material?”

She laughed and nodded.

“Yes”, she said and kissed him fiercely before taking the parcel and opening it. A tiny frown appeared on her forehead and she laughed again.

“Draco, is it supposed to sparkle?”

 

The end.


End file.
